


Immortals

by inthebathroom



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, BAMF Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), BAMF TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream Being a Jerk (Video Blogging RPF), Immortality, No Romance, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Possible Character Death, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Time Travel, War, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthebathroom/pseuds/inthebathroom
Summary: Everyone knows that gods exist in the world of the Dream smp, representing aspects of daily life, but that's about it. Nobody knows who each god is, and the gods want to keep it that way. They're perfectly fine in their cottage on the outskirts of the smp. At least, they are until a man named Dream claims to be one of them.OrTommy, Techno, Philza, and Wilbur are gods. Dream claims to be one of them and they get mad. Also, Karl is a time traveler.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Dream SMP Ensemble & Ranboo, Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, Karl Jacobs & Phil Watson, Karl Jacobs & Technoblade, Karl Jacobs & TommyInnit, Karl Jacobs & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Technoblade & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 65
Kudos: 825





	1. The False God's Claims

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my new fic! Updates won't be super regular due to me wanting to keep up with my other fic, Hiraeth, but this will be updated at least once a week (hopefully).
> 
> CW for chapter one: religion and food.

It was no secret that gods existed. Known for representing different important aspects in the lives of the people who inhabited the world of the Dream SMP. Temples were built where offerings could be made and people often prayed to them in daily life. Despite this, not much was known about these powerful beings, not even their names. It was just assumed that the gods preferred to be secretive, and that was at least a little bit correct.

Yes, the four gods of the world were known for being mysterious and almost never appearing to mortals, but they were very much real. A family who hid themselves away from society, occasionally mingling with the mortals disguised as one of them.

The youngest of these gods, Tommy, ran through the snow with a grin on his face, his boots pounding against the ground as his laughter rang through the air and his blonde hair blew wildly in the wind. If you didn’t know better, you might think he was the god of youth or innocence from looking at him. His clothing matched both the clothes of his family, and the environment. His trousers were white, and no matter how much he played around outside, nothing seemed to dirty them. He wore a pale blue button down with gold and white accents, almost the same color of his eyes, and over one shoulder he wore a short red cape.

Sitting on the deck, watching the younger god fondly, was Philza, the eldest god. He had the same hair and eyes as Tommy did, and a similar outfit, although his cape was longer and blue, and the red accents were on his sleeves and a little heart clasp at his chest. A bucket hat covered the top of his head, casting a shadow over his face that would have looked menacing if it weren’t for the soft smile he wore. If you looked at him, you’d never be able to tell just how powerful the man was. You wouldn’t understand the way that nature bent to his will.

Behind Tommy, chasing him and laughing almost as hard as the boy himself, was Wilbur, the younger of the twin gods. His curly brown hair stuck out of the crimson beanie on his head, and the large blue coat that he wore over his outfit, a white shirt and light brown pants, flowed behind him in the wind. He gathered a snowball in his hand and tossed it at his younger brother, hitting him in the head and causing a loud bout of complaining from Tommy, who was now trying to shake the snow out of his hair.

The older twin god was nowhere to be seen, probably inside cooking for the family, a stew made with potatoes, carrots, and beef alongside fresh bread, which Phil had placed in the oven before coming outside with two of his three sons.

The family didn’t expect a visitor that day. After all, the only person who knew where they lived was Karl, who only came when there was significant news. Karl only knew because he had shown to be an asset, his abilities to travel throughout the timeline becoming very useful. Plus, he had already known they were gods when he showed up. That must have been some time travel thing, although Karl said he couldn’t disclose the details because it might mess up the timeline and cause something bad to happen. Apparently even gods couldn’t know all the intricacies of the timeline.

Yet, here he was, running out of the forest in that multi-colored hoodie that he always wore, despite the temperature. Seriously, the mortal should have been more careful. He must have been freezing. That jacket couldn’t have been nearly warm enough.

Tommy was the first to spot him, and his grin became even wider than before as he ran to meet the man, “Karl!” he yelled, waving his hand excitedly, “you’re here! Why are you here? Did something cool happen? Did the mortals do something?”

Karl took a moment to catch his breath, “Yeah, something happened, but you aren’t going to like it.” He looked around, as if confused, “Where’s Technoblade? I need all of you here. He needs to hear what’s going on.”

Wilbur and Phil exchanged concerned looks, before Phil walked over and placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Go tell your brother we’ll be having a guest for dinner. It’s a good thing he always makes too much. We’re just going to have a quick conversation, but we’ll come in right afterwards, okay?”

Tommy really didn’t like being left in the dark about things and this seemed like one of those times, but he knew better than to complain. By the look on Karl’s face, the young god could tell that what was happening was important. With a nod, he ran back to the house to tell Techno.

The door swung open easily as he pushed it and his nose was immediately greeted with the smell of the stew that his brother was cooking in the corner. The house was tidy, although that wasn’t very surprising considering any one of them could send everything back to its proper place with a snap of their fingers. The shelves in the main room were lines with cookbooks and history books, as well as a couple of scrapbooks from the times they’d spent living with mortals. Tommy still occasionally got teary-eyed remembering a mortal boy he had once known who was called Robin. Of course, Robin had died decades, if not centuries ago.

His brother, and the elder twin god, stood in the corner tending to the stew. He had no doubt sensed Tommy’s presence but was waiting for his younger brother to speak. His long hair, which had been a soft pink color ever since he’d observed mortals who changed their hair color to match an aesthetic that they enjoyed, was tied back into a simple braid. His ears were slightly folded over, similar to that of a pig’s for reasons unknown, and he wore a golden crown perched on his head, which Tommy found incredibly ironic considering the guy was the god of anarchy. He wasn’t wearing his outer layers at the moment and simply wore a white button down with blue sleeves that were rolled up so as not to get dirty while cooking.

“Hey, Techno!” Tommy called out, grinning at his brother, “Phil says to set the table for another guest. Karl’s here and apparently he’s got important news.”

“Oh?” Techno asked, not looking up from his task, “do you know if it’s good or bad news, Toms?” He snapped his fingers and one of the overhead cabinets flew open, allowing five bowls to come flying out onto the counter so that Techno could ladle the stew into them.

“Bad, I think,” Tommy said with a sigh, “he said we weren’t going to like it. He also said that you specifically would need to hear it. I dunno why though.”

Techno grunted, ladling stew into the last bowl, “I’ll bring these over to the table. Could you get silverware and take the bread out of the oven?” He didn’t wait for an answer before carrying the stew over to the family’s table and snapping his fingers once more to call another chair.

Tommy gave a nod and rushed to grab oven mitts. Maybe he was a god, but touching a hot pan of bread was still not pleasant. He’d learned that the hard way. Once the bread was out of the oven, he carefully released it from the pan it was in and placed it on a plate in the center of the table. He noticed that the butter was already out and went to grab spoons for the stew and a couple of knives for the butter and cutting the bread.

Just as Tommy finished setting the table, the other three walked in, finishing up a hushed conversation that Tommy didn’t catch. 

“Nice to see you Karl,” Techno said in greeting, “although Tommy tells me that you come bearing bad news. Please, let’s discuss over dinner. I hope you like beef stew.”

As the group took their seats around the table, the tension rose in the room. For a moment, nobody spoke, preferring to focus entirely on the stew, which tasted amazing. For the god of blood and war, Techno was certainly a good chef.

Then, Karl spoke up, “There is a power-hungry man in the SMP,” he said, “he calls himself Dream, and apparently he’ll stop at nothing to be feared and respected.”

“Is he committing war crimes?” Techno asked, “war crimes are always interesting.”

“Not yet,” Karl sighed, “he’s claiming to be a god.”

That sentence brought an uproar from the table.

“Well that’s fucking stupid. He’s just a little bitch boy.”

“Did he expect to get away with that without divine intervention?”

“A fucking god? Who does he think he is?”

The only one who was silent was Techno, who stared at Karl with an intensity in his gaze, “Which god is he claiming to be, Karl?”

Karl gulped, “He claims to be the god of blood, war, and anarchy.”

Techno slammed his fist on the table, making the whole house shake and almost causing the stew to spill out of the bowls they were eating from, “He’s pretending to be me? I should have Tommy strike him with lightning for that.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up, “I never get to zap people anymore! Can I zap him, please? He sounds like a fucking bitch.”

“No,” Techno sighed, “we’re going to investigate this problem in person. Hopefully set this whole thing right and not reveal our identities in the process.”

“Are you sure, Techno?” Philza asked, “We haven’t visited SMP lands for an extended amount of time in at least thirty years. Things have changed.”

“Clearly they have,” Techno grumbled, “for the worse. People have no respect for the gods anymore. It’s idiocy.”

Nobody seemed interested in finishing their stew anymore. They all were angry, frustrated, and in the mood to punch something.

“I could drive him insane,” Wilbur suggested. Being the god of music, madness, and death, he could do things like that.

“If he’s claiming to be Techno, he’s probably already insane,” Tommy said with a groan, “You sure I can’t make lightning strike him? It would be so easy. Just a little zap and then BOOM. No more bitch boy, and everyone knows he’s a liar.”

“No,” Techno grumbled, “I’m doing this in person, and I assume you all don’t want to be left out of the action.”

“We aren’t letting you go on your own, Techno,” Phil spoke with a sigh, “I suppose we’ll leave in the morning then. Pack your travel supplies after dinner. Karl, do you have something we could use in order to find our way?”

“I could guide you myself,” he suggested, “it wouldn’t be a problem, really.”

“No.” Wilbur was the one to speak this time, “you’re the king’s advisor, correct?”

“Uh, yeah,” Karl nodded, “I’m King Eret’s advisor.”

“He’ll wonder where you are if you stay the night to guide us. Plus, we don’t have a guest room. You need to go back. We will meet up with you tomorrow.”

Karl frowned, but nodded. He dug around in his bag and pulled out a compass that almost glowed with a purple light, “This compass is enchanted. It leads you to your desired destination throughout space. It also works through time if you can time travel, but you can’t time travel so you don’t need to worry about that. Whoever is holding it just needs to focus on King Eret’s castle, and that’s where it will lead you. Good luck.”

He didn’t finish his stew, not that anyone minded, before he gave them a wave end exited the building, running a short distance before disappearing into the air. That man was certainly something.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence before leaving to pack their things. After all, they had a long journey ahead of them the next morning.


	2. The King's Greeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods arrive in the Dream SMP and are greeted by a troubled king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of war and death

The sun was only just beginning to peak over the horizon when the four gods finished their breakfast, a meal hastily prepared which nobody really enjoyed. Each one of them donned their outfits, almost carbon copies of the ones they had worn the day before, their traveling cloaks and jackets, and their bags, filled to the bursting point with supplies for their journey. None among them really felt like making conversation, more focused on directing their anger at the man who had claimed to be one of their own.

Gods, thankfully, could travel at speeds that most humans couldn’t. Because of this, along with the enchanted compass leading the way, the journey which would have taken any mortal a few days, would only take them a few hours. Still, gods are impatient beings and the journey was tedious as they trekked through the spruce forest, a wooded area covered in snow which resided in the valley between two mountains. It was always cold there, no matter the season in the rest of the world, leading many outsiders to steer clear, thinking it was magical.

Somewhere along the line, Tommy tried to start a game of I Spy while Wilbur was attempting to lead them all in the travel song, One Hundred Potion Bottles On The Wall, which nobody seemed keen to join in with.

By the time they had left the forest, emerging into the greater lands of the Dream SMP, Philza and Techno looked about ready to snap if they heard “take one down, pass it around, now there’s thirty two potion bottles on the wall” or “I spy with my little… no, not little. My eye isn’t little, I’m a big man. Let me start over. I spy—” one more time, they would have screamed. Luckily, just as Wilbur was taking in a breath, ready to start the next line of the song, Tommy called out in excitement.

“There it is!” he yelled, “There’s King Eret’s castle, see?” He pointed to a spot in the distance, and sure enough, there it was, a castle built with stone bricks only just coming into view. Turrets and spires flew rainbow flags, blowing in the wind which whipped through each god’s hair. It was an amazing sight to behold as it loomed overhead, even with the moss and ivy that was beginning to creep up the walls.

“Good,” Techno groaned, “let’s just find Karl so we can find this Dream guy and get this over with.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come all the way out here,” Tommy pointed out, “I offered to zap him, but you said you wanted to deal with it in person.”

“I didn’t anticipate the singing,” Techno countered.

“I’m literally the god of music,” Wilbur laughed, raising an eyebrow, “plus, we’re twins. You’re supposed to know me better than anyone else. You should have expected this.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Philza said with a small grin, “Wilbur has a point. Don’t get me wrong, I hated that repetitive singing—”

“Hey!”

“—but I definitely wasn’t surprised by it.”

“Well Tommy thinks my singing is amazing,” Wilbur huffed, elbowing Tommy in the side, “don’t you?”

Tommy blinked, “I just wanted to play I Spy, and right now I spy a massive bitch and his name is Wilbur.”

“You little—”

“Boys!” Philza called out, “stop fighting. We have bigger things to worry about. Now remember, we aren’t here to do anything other than put an end to the lies this Dream guy is telling. We cannot afford to get side-tracked.”

“Philza, do I look like the type of man to get sidetracked?”

“Yes, Tommy, absolutely.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Remember,” Phil said, nodding his head in the direction of the castle, “they cannot know who we are. As far as they’ll know, we’re a mortal royal family from a country on the other side of the forest, the Antarctic Empire.”

“I don’t understand why our cover has to involve the government,” Techno grumbled.

“We’re meeting with Karl and the King, Techno,” Philza explained, “King Eret should be more inclined to help us if he thinks we’re rulers from a foreign country. He’ll want to ensure possible future relations.”

“Fine, but I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it, you just have to play along.”

For the second time in two days, the gods found themselves staring at a figure running towards them, Karl again, a relieved smile on his face as he waved to them, only stopping to catch his breath when he reached the group.

“You made it!” he said, panting from the exertion, “I was worried the compass had broken or something.”

“Yeah,” Philza chuckled, “well, Tommy and Wilbur kept us dragging slightly.”

“What do you mean?” Karl asked.

“Nothing, it’s fine,” he waved the question away, “the important thing is, we’re here. This must be the first time I’ve visited the SMP in about forty years.”

“I know! Everyone here is going to love you guys, I’m sure of it. King Eret is expecting you, by the way.”

“You didn’t tell him—” Techno started, quickly getting cut off by Karl.

“Of course not! Phil told me the cover story, that’s all he knows. Seriously, you can trust me to keep a secret. I mean, nobody knows about the whole time travel thing.”

“Right, just had to make sure,” Techno nodded, “you understand.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Karl said, shaking his head slightly, “but don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone about the whole gods thing. Now come on, Eret is waiting.”

King Eret was an impressive looking man, as befitted a king. His brown hair fell in his face, and sunglasses covered his eyes, as if he had something to hide underneath. For the moment, as it was warm inside his castle, his cape was hung neatly nearby, leaving him wearing a white button down shirt, black slacks, and platform boots that made him even taller than he was usually. Perched atop his head was a crown, not unlike the one that Techno always wore, saying that he may dislike the government, but he didn’t have a vendetta against their fashion.

His voice was warm as he greeted them, “Hello, and welcome to the Dream SMP. It’s always great to have visitors from abroad, although I’ll admit it doesn’t happen often. Karl tells me you’re from beyond the Frozen Wood, is that correct?”

He seemed to be mainly addressing Techno, which made sense as he was the one wearing the crown.

“Yes,” Techno spoke, matching Eret’s warm tone as best as he could, “I’m Prince Technoblade of the Antarctic Empire, this is my father, Philza, and my siblings, Tommy and Wilbur.”

“Ah, so Philza is the ruler of your nation?” Eret asked, tilting his head.

“I am the Emperor, yes,” Philza agreed with a nod, “We are all very pleased to make your acquaintance. It has been a long journey to get here.”

Techno glanced back at Tommy and Wilbur, “Very long.”

“I would assume so,” Eret laughed, “none from my kingdom other than Karl have dared journey into the depths of that forest. They all think it’s enchanted.”

“Because of the snow?” Tommy asked, “That’s fucking stupid, it’s just how the place is.”

“Tommy,” Philza scolded, “we are guests of King Eret, please treat him with respect.”

“No, it’s alright. He reminds me of a couple other boys I know. I think he’s around their age.”

Tommy had to hold in an amused snort at that notion. Of course, he looked fairly young, but he was a god. He was centuries old.

“Yes, he is,” Karl said quickly, “He’s sixteen. If you’re referring to Tubbo and Ranboo, then he’s slightly younger than both of them.”

Tommy shot Karl a glare. Great, now everyone thought he was super young or something. If he didn’t care about keeping their cover, he would have angrily protested.

“Ah, yes,” Eret nodded, “well, whatever your ages, we look forward to future relations with the Antarctic Empire. I don’t know how much Karl has told you about the state of our nation, but we’re in a bit of a tough spot right now. Another man has laid claim to the throne, creating a faction following him. The Greater Dream SMP is in a state of civil war, my kingdom against the newly built kingdom led by him.”

Techno frowned, raising an eyebrow, “What is this man’s name?”

“George,” Eret replied, giving the gods a moment of relief before shattering the peace again, “I don’t think he would have gained much of a faction if it weren’t for the man backing him, however. He calls himself Dream, the god of war, anarchy, and blood.”

If Eret noticed the way the gods' faces turned tense with anger, he didn’t mention it, “I’m not sure I believe his claims, but many do. They are too scared to go against the will of a god to risk disbelieving him.”

“What of the other three gods?” Wilbur asked, trying to keep the hatred out of his voice, “what claims has he made about them?”

“None so far, but people are asking,” Karl spoke, receiving a nod from Eret, “We know nothing of their current location, or his supposed relation to them.”

“But there must be some people backing you,” Tommy frowned, “some people who aren’t too afraid to defy him.”

“There are some,” Eret nodded, “my knight, Puffy, for example, remains loyal to me. The nation of L’manberg has also formed a temporary alliance with me. We are repairing our relationship after my… unfortunate role in their last war. A few others as well, but the warriors backing George are fierce, I fear it won’t be enough.”

“We’ll back you,” Techno said, surprising everyone in the room, “we have no army who can come help, but I think you’ll find that the four of us are handy with weapons. We have seen war before and come out on top.”

“True,” Tommy said, grinning, “I’m handy with a bow, Techno likes fireworks a bit too much, and both Wilbur and Philza prefer swords, but really, we’ve all trained with a multitude of weapons.”

“We would greatly appreciate the support,” Eret said, the disbelief evident in his voice, “but you barely know the situation. Aren’t you afraid of what might happen to you if he’s telling the truth?”

“Even if he is,” Wilbur said, “he’s still an advocate for tyranny, rather odd for someone who claims to be the god of anarchy. Gods are supposed to be benevolent when they can, are they not? If he’s a god, he’s not deserving of the title.”

“It is decided,” Philza spoke, “I trust the judgement of my sons. We will back you in your war, King Eret.”

“Thank you all,” Eret said, looking relieved, but still wary, “I have some business to attend to, but I’m sure Karl can give you the tour of our nation and L’manberg. Both have plenty of places where you can stay, if that’s what you wish.”

“We thank you for your hospitality,” Phil said with a soft smile, “please, go take care of whatever it is you need to attend to.”

With a nod, Eret walked out of the room, muttering something about trying to recruit ‘The Badlands’, whatever that meant.

Karl grinned, “You’re really going help us?” he asked, looking between Techno and Philza.

“Yeah, what happened to being an anarchist, Techno?” Tommy asked, laughing slightly, “Mr. ‘I hate government’ just agreed to fight for one.”

“It was the lesser of two evils,” Techno shrugged, “we can fight in this war, kill Dream, and go back home. Besides, war is war.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wilbur asked, “that’s like me saying ‘I’m going to join a random group of travelling bards because music is music.’ You’re the god of war, Techno, have some higher standards.”

“That’s different and you know it,” Techno pointed out, “music varies in quality, you can’t just lump it all into one category. War? War is inherently all the same. It may involve different people, different nations, but their blood spilled is the same in the end.”

“Woah,” Karl laughed nervously, “that was dark, but not wrong, I guess.”

“Exactly,” Techno nodded, “you’ve seen war in the past, present, and future. In the end, new technology, different goals, it doesn’t matter. I’m surprised that the god of death doesn’t understand that.”

“Oh whatever,” Wilbur groaned, “I get it, okay? Now shut up.”

“Well,” Karl interrupted the bickering, “you guys heard Eret. I know you’ve seen the Dream SMP before, but I think it’s time you met the people of L’manberg.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm alive! Sorry it took me so long to update, I got caught up with a lot of things, but I'm back now. This is the main fic I have inspiration for, although I will probably also post a few oneshots when I have motivation for that. Thanks for all the love on this fic, I hope you enjoyed this new chapter.


	3. A Bittersweet Backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods are introduced to the president and vice president of L'manberg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of war, brief mentions of death, mentions of child abandonment

Karl assured them that the citizens of L’manberg were good people, despite the slightly intimidating blackstone walls that rose up in front of them, separing the nation from the Dream SMP. The yellow tops made it look like a warning sign, cautioning them not to enter. Maybe that was the point, keeping others away by looking scarier than they were.

“You’ll like the people here,” Karl said for what must have been the third time since they’d left Eret’s castle, as if noticing the slight unease that showed in the gods’ expressions, “they’re all great. Even forgave Eret after what he did to them.”

“What exactly did Eret do to them, Karl?” asked Wilbur, raising an eyebrow.

“Not my story to tell,” Karl said with a shrug, “I wasn’t there, I just heard stories. I don’t want to tell you anything that I didn’t see firsthand.”

“So we’re just supposed to blindly help a man that may have done terrible things?” Tommy asked, seemingly feeling slightly nervous about the idea of helping Eret now.

“You’re not the victim, Tommy,” Karl frowned, “if the people of L’manberg have forgiven him, it’s not up to you to decide if he was deserving of that. You may be a god, but you don’t get any say in how people should feel.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, okay!” Tommy threw his hands in the air, “Not my business, fine. I guess I’ll just shut up then, shall I?”

“Yes, Tommy,” Techno said with a groan, “I think everyone would appreciate it if you did.”

“Hey! Shut the fuck up you little bitch, I’ll kill you. I will!”

“Tommy, I am literally immortal. I can’t die, you know that.”

Karl’s eyes darted around, “Look, we’re about to cross into the nation. If you want to keep your secret, I would shut up about it now.”

Tommy looked reluctant, but he promptly closed his mouth, opting to stick his tongue out at Techno instead.

“You’ll want to meet the cabinet first,” Karl said, once he was satisfied that the gods weren’t going to accidentally reveal themselves, “President Tubbo and Vice President Quackity are probably in the White House. I don’t know about Secretary Treasurer Ranboo, though. He tends to wander around.”

“What kind of names are those,” Techno snorted, “Tubbo? Quackity? Ranboo? Very odd names.”

“Your name is Technoblade,” Karl reminded him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I have an excuse,” Techno said, “I’m a god. Those people are mortals.”

“Tommy and Wilbur are normal names,” Karl countered.

“Yeah, but Philza isn’t,” Techno said, “so I think it’s safe to say gods are allowed to have weird names. Mortals… well, I’m not the god of naming things, so I guess I can’t stop them.”

“There’s a god of naming things?”

“No,” Philza sighed, “Techno’s just being sarcastic. We’re the only four gods out there. We would know if there were others. With all our travels, we would have crossed paths at some point.”

“This is fucking stupid,” Tommy muttered, “let’s just meet these people already. Plus, you guys are being morons, Karl said to shut up about that shit.”

“Thanks, Tommy,” Karl grinned, relieved.

“No problem, big man. I’ll take any chance to point out when those idiots are doing something stupid.”

On that note, Karl began to show the group around the country, pointing out his favorite places within the walls. It really was a beautiful place, despite the intimidating border that surrounded it.

When they arrived at the White House, the first thing that Tommy noticed was that it was not, in fact, white. It wasn’t some grand building like Tommy would have expected, but a rather humble one constructed mainly from stone bricks with a roof, hastily thrown together, as if the builders had run out of materials and just used whatever they had readily available to patch up the top. It was clearly not made by someone with much experience, but it clearly worked for whatever use it was constructed for.

From inside, Tommy could hear voices discussing something, one softer with a sort of lilt to it, and one loud and boisterous. Tommy didn’t know much about voices, that was Wilbur’s domain, but these ones stuck in his mind immediately for some reason, especially the softer one.

Karl knocked on the door and the voices went silent. There was a shuffling noise, and a boy, standing at about five and half feet tall opened the door, blinking in surprise. He looked tired, and his face wore the worn expression that Tommy had seen on many adults, but he was young. Was this one of the people Eret and Karl had been talking about? His brown hair fell just above his eyes, and he wore a white button down shirt with rolled up sleeves and a green tie that Tommy suspected might have been a clip-on. The boy also had small horns growing out of his head, like a little goat.

He visibly relaxed when he saw Karl, “Oh, hi Karl. What brings you to L’manberg? Does Eret need something? Quackity and I were just discussing the logistics of this war, but we can put that on hold to help you guys out if needed.”

“Eret is fine, Tubbo,” Karl smiled, and Tommy blinked. This short kid was the president of L’manberg? “I actually came to introduce you to the royal family of the Antarctic Empire. They’ve just allied themselves with us in the war.”

Tubbo raised an eyebrow at the group, “I’ve never heard of the Antarctic Empire.”

“It’s beyond the Frozen Wood,” Philza supplied, and Tubbo tensed further.

“You’re from beyond the wood? I didn’t know there was anything past that.”

“Yeah,” Tommy spoke, “well there is.”

“Nice to meet you then,” Tubbo said with an exhausted smile, “I’m President Tubbo, and you all are?”

Tommy took the initiative this time, “I’m Prince Tommy. The old blond guy is my father, Emperor Philza. The guy with pink hair who looks about ready to murder someone at any moment is my brother, Technoblade, and the other guy is his twin, Wilbur. How old are you?”

“Uh, seventeen?”

“Why is a seventeen year old in charge of a country?”

Tubbo frowned, “I was elected. How old are you?”

“I—” Tommy noticed Karl’s pointed glare in his direction, and he sighed, “I’m sixteen.”

“You’re younger than me, you can’t even talk,” Tubbo snorted.

“Yeah well I’m not the fucking emperor, am I? I’m just a prince, I was born into this.”

“Tubbo?” the loud voice from before asked, “what’s taking so—” the voice cut off as the source of it came into view. The man had black hair, but it was hard to see because a beanie hid most of it, only allowing a few strands to escape. He had dark brown eyes, darting around with confusion as he stared at the group in front of him, and he stood only slightly taller than Tubbo, not looking that much older either, maybe in his early 20s. 

“Oh, hello?” He sounded unsure as he surveyed the odd little group standing in front of him, “Tubbo, Karl, who the hell are all these people?”

Tubbo turned to the newcomer with a smile, “Hey Quackity! Karl’s showing the royal family of the… uh, what was it again?”

“The Antarctic Empire,” Wilbur supplied.

“Yeah, that! Karl’s showing those guys around! Apparently they just entered an alliance with King Eret.”

The newcomer, Quackity, blinked, “Oh, well welcome, then. We need all the help we can get, you know? That bitch George isn’t gonna be a good king for anyone, but he does have some strong allies. Dream, Punz, Sapnap… they’re all highly trained warriors.”

“Good news for you guys then,” Tommy interjected, smiling proudly, “we’re also highly trained.”

“You?” Quackity raised an eyebrow, “No offense, man, but you look like you’re about sixteen. These other guys, maybe, but you?”

Tommy huffed in annoyance, “Look, Big Q. Can I call you Big Q?”

“Please do not.”

“Great, thanks Big Q. Anyways, you’re talking about me being too young to be a warrior when your president over there is a kid too.”

“Yeah, but he’s Tubbo,” Quackity shrugged, as if that made all the difference in the world.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Tommy groaned.

“It means, he’s an exception. Plus, Tubbo’s not a warrior, he’s a leader. He’s good at helping people, not hurting them.”

“How’d you win your war, then?” Wilbur asked, confused.

“Oh, that?” Tubbo asked, looking a little embarrassed, “That wasn’t really anything I did. I mean, we held out as long as we could, but things started to look pretty bad after… well, everything. I don’t think we’d have won if it wasn’t for Puffy.”

“Puffy?” Phil frowned, “Eret mentioned her, isn’t she his knight?”

“She didn’t used to be,” Tubbo shrugged, “we don’t really know where she came from, she never told us, but she showed up one day, one of the best warriors we’d ever seen. Because of her, we were able to turn the tide. She only joined Eret afterwards, when he made the promise to protect the rights and respect the independence of all separated nations.”

Techno frowned, “Why would she join the war of someone she didn’t even know.”

“She said it was her job to be a protector,” Quackity chimed in, “who the fuck were we to argue? We were just glad we had a strong ally. She won’t be enough this time, though. Not when Dream’s revealed himself as a god. He can use his full power without revealing anything.”

Techno clenched his fists, “That’s if he even is a god,” he said, anger barely contained in his voice.

Quackity scoffed, “You haven’t seen him fight, man. It already seemed inhuman during the first war, but now? He’s making preparations and frankly, I don’t want to see what he’s preparing for.”

Techno sighed, then glanced to Karl, “I need some fresh air. Can we continue with the tour please?”

“Of course!” Karl said, recognizing Techno’s anger, “Tubbo, do you have any idea where Ranboo is? Or Fundy and Niki? Jack Manifold?”

Wilbur sucked in a shaky breath at the mention of the name Fundy, but if anyone noticed it, they didn’t say anything.

“I think Ranboo’s in the library,” Tubbo said helpfully, “Niki is probably in her bakery. I dunno about Jack and Fundy, though. Jack might be in the arena, I heard him say something about fixing his technique, and… well, you know how Fundy is. Doesn’t really like being around other people if he can help it.”

“Why not?” Wilbur asked, surprising everyone.

Tubbo raised an eyebrow, “Well he kinda just grew up alone. He had his mum, Sally, but she left him a while back. He never knew his dad and Sally never said anything about him. Plus… he’s a little weird. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just… Well, he always seems to know when people have died in a room. Says he can sense it, or some shit.”

Wilbur looked about ready to run out of there, and Techno was still pissed, so Karl quickly waved goodbye and said they were off to find Ranboo, escorting the group of gods out of the building and into a safe area, out of earshot.

Wilbur still looked shaken up from the information Tubbo had shared about Fundy, even as he paced back and forth, trying to calm himself down by humming a melody each god knew by heart at this point. Wilbur had made it up when he was only a young god, and it always seemed to calm him down.

“Wilbur?” Phil asked, gently, “what’s wrong?”

“You heard what Tubbo said about that Fundy kid,” Wilbur muttered, “he can sense where things have died.”

“So?” Tommy asked, “He’s just mad, I reckon. I mean, the only one who can actually sense death is you, and unless you’ve got a kid you didn’t tell any of us about—”

Wilbur grimaced, causing Tommy to stop his joking tone of voice, and stare.

“Holy shit, Will, you don’t actually—”

“Yeah,” Wilbur said, sighing, “I think Fundy is my son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that's a surprise, isn't it? Yep, Wilbur's still Fundy's dad in this AU. I'm glad you guys are enjoying this so far, your kudos and comments really do make my day.


	4. Metaphors and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods meet Ranboo, who has a few concerns about the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of mental illness, mention of child abandonment, mentions of death

After a brief moment of shock in which nobody spoke, all staring at Wilbur. How are you supposed to react to someone telling you he has a kid that none of you knew about? Then, the loud noises of confusion and panic came flooding in.

“What the fuck, Wilbur?” Phil asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Dude, you’re Fundy’s dad? That’s so weird,” said Karl.

“Well this complicates things,” sighed Techno.

“Wilbur, you’re a fucking deadbeat!” Tommy yelled, “Your kid probably thinks you’re fucking dead!”

“Look,” Wilbur said, his voice defensive, “I didn’t know she had a kid!”

“But you knew there was a danger that she could,” Phil pointed out, “Wilbur, do you understand what this means?”

“That I should have been paying child support for a son I didn’t know I had?”

“That you’ve jeopardized our secrecy,” Techno muttered, “you heard Tubbo, he senses when a place has a history of death. Next thing you know, he’ll be seeing ghosts or causing people to think they’re going mad.”

“I can’t have passed that much of myself onto him, could I?” Wilbur asked with a frown.

“None of us fucking know how much you could have passed on, Will!” Phil groaned, “None of us have had children with mortals before!”

“You have to keep an eye on this kid, Wilbur,” Techno said with a sigh, “he’s your

responsibility. Now that we’re here, you have to make sure nothing he does exposes us, alright?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Wilbur asked, “I don’t know how to take care of a kid!”

“You took care of Tommy when he was younger,” Philza pointed out, “plus, you should have thought of that before you decided to have relations with a mortal.”

“Well… she barely counts as mortal.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“She was a shapeshifter,” Wilbur sighed, “never liked to be confined to human form for long, preferred taking the form of a salmon in the rivers.”

“So you, a god, had relations with a shapeshifter powerful enough to take the form of a salmon for most of her life, knowing there was a chance of you having a kid? He could be dangerous!”

“Woah!” Karl said, laughing nervously as he held his hands up, “let’s not fight about this right now guys! I mean, heck, none of you have even met Fundy yet! I don’t think you should, you know, judge this kid, before you even know what he’s like! I mean, I’ve met him, and I don’t think he can shapeshift or anything. He definitely doesn’t look fully human, but I’ve never seen him change shape, and you know me. I see a lot of things.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t look fully human?” Tommy asked, “that could mean a lot of fucking things, Karl.”

“You know how Tubbo had the goat horns?” Karl asked.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Fundy is similar to that, I guess, but it shows a bit more with him.”

“So he’s a fucking goat, then?” Tommy asked, crossing his arms.

“Uh… no,” Karl said, frowning as if he didn’t quite know how to word it, “more like a fox? He’s got a tail and ears, plus sharp teeth. Other than that, he looks pretty human. I mean, now that I think about it, he kinda does look a bit like you, Wilbur. He’s got curly hair like yours, and brown eyes.”

“Oh my god, I have a son,” Wilbur muttered, as if he still couldn’t believe it. He ran a shaking hand through his brown curls, almost knocking his beanie off his head as he did so, “Karl… can I? Can I meet him? Alone?”

“I mean…” Karl trailed off, “If I can find him, I guess you can try? He’s not a big fan of one on one conversation to be honest, Wilbur. What are you going to tell him? That you’re his dad?”

“No,” Wilbur muttered softly, “I wish I could, but… I can’t risk him telling anyone else. One day I’ll tell him, but not today.”

“You should all go talk to Ranboo first, alright?” Karl asked, “He’s got all the information about this war written down in his records, it’ll be valuable for you to talk to him. Just, fair warning, he can be a bit nervous. Oh, and if you see him writing anything down, I promise it’s not a bad thing, but it’s not my story to tell.”

“I’m beginning to think you know a lot of stories that aren’t yours to tell,” Techno observed, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Comes with the job description,” Karl said with a laugh. There was something odd about this laugh, though. Something colder, almost bitter. It was a stark contrast from Karl’s usual warm laughs, full of life. Of course, he was a time traveller, a mortal gifted with an ability to visit and change the past and future. With an ability like that, he must have seen a lot of death in his time. Deaths, when you weren’t equipped to deal with them, hurt, any god worth anything would tell you that. It was safer to stay detached from the mortal world, to focus only on yourself and other gods. Karl didn’t have that luxury, he was much too involved. He had more than his fair share of ghosts following him, formless yes, but still very much there, whispering things that only Wilbur could hear.

In fact, now that Wilbur thought about it, Karl Jacobs reeked of death. Although Wilbur couldn’t make out any individual voices, he got the general sentiment. All of these ghosts had strong feelings about Karl Jacobs. Some loved him, radiating positive emotions. Maybe these ghosts had been saved by him, only dying later in a calmer, more peaceful way. Maybe Karl had simply protected them as best he could, and they appreciated that. Most of the ghosts, however, hated him. They screamed words that Wilbur couldn’t comprehend, and occasionally a ghostly hand would climb to Karl’s throat, trying to claw the life out of him. Maybe these were the ghosts he couldn’t save, or the ones that Karl protected the others from. Wilbur knew better than to mention them to his friend.

“Okay then,” Tommy said with a wicked grin, “let’s go meet this Ranboob bitch.”

“I think you mean Ranboo,” Karl corrected.

“Nope,” Tommy laughed, “I know what I said. Go on, Karl, take me to the boob boy!”

Phil and Techno groaned simultaneously at Tommy’s actions, but Wilbur could tell they weren’t surprised. That was Tommy, after all. He did and said things like that all the time, and despite how fucking annoying it could be when they were trying to be serious, they loved him for it.

The library was a beautiful building built out of primarily dark oak wood and terracotta, and Wilbur found himself staring at it in awe. He wondered how much knowledge was stored in a place like this. What did the books inside contain? Stories of the gods? The history of the Dream SMP and incomplete books on the story of a nation called L’manberg that hadn’t quite found its footing yet? Fantasy books about heroes and villains and power that people in reality could only dream of? Wilbur may not have been the god of knowledge, but he could definitely appreciate a good book.

Karl led the group through the door, and if Wilbur had thought the outside was impressive, it was nothing compared to the inside. The walls were hidden behind bookshelves that climbed to the ceiling, ladders were placed at intervals around the room so that someone might reach the books on the highest shelf without trouble. The floors were carpeted so that the footsteps were muffled as they walked, not disturbing the small amounts of dust that were beginning to gather on the less popular books.

In the very back, sitting at a cluttered desk, was a figure with hair split in color down the middle, black on one side, white on the other. This was gathered into a small ponytail on the back of his head. He seemed absorbed in whatever he was working on, hunched over, muttering something under his breath that was impossible to make out. He was dressed in a slightly wrinkled suit jacket, hands covered in gloves that matched the split hair he had going on drumming on the desk, occasionally turning the pages of a worn leather book. He let out a sound of frustration that sounded eerily similar to the noises endermen made when they were upset, and his leg bounced up and down, as if it helped him concentrate.

“Hi Ranboo!” Karl called out, causing a surprised yelp to escape the man’s mouth as he shot straight up and whirled around to face the group. His face was visible now, and Wilbur could see that it was split almost down the middle, similar to his hair. He was tall as well, in a way that didn’t seem human. He had to be somewhere around eight and a half feet tall, and Wilbur was reminded again of the enderman comparison. Was this guy part enderman or something? It would make sense with the black markings on half his body, but then what did the white mean? It wasn’t a human type of pale, it reminded Wilbur more of the quartz from the nether that builders sought after so much. His eyes were white, staring at the group in shock and then confusion. These two were different colors, red and green this time.

He let out a shaky breath, “Oh, hi Karl,” he sighed, smoothing down his red tie, “I didn’t hear you come in, sorry about that! Uh… who are these people?” He nodded towards the gods, and Wilbur looked back to see Tommy’s eyes alight in recognition. Wilbur shot Tommy a questioning gaze, which was responded to with nothing more than a shrug.

Wilbur shook off his confusion and turned back to Ranboo to introduce the group, “I’m Wilbur. This is Philza, Tommy, and Technoblade. We’re the royal family of the Antarctic Empire, but we’ll be here for a while in order to help out in your war against this self-proclaimed King George.”

“Oh… right, the war,” Ranboo laughed nervously, “Yeah, I suppose you’re here to look at the records? One moment, let me grab them.”

He scrambled off in order to find whatever he kept the records in, and came back with another leatherbound book that read ‘War Records.’ Not a very creative name, but oh well.

While Philza began to skim through the book, Tommy, Wilbur, and Techno decided collectively to speak to Ranboo.

“So,” Techno spoke, raising an eyebrow, “you seem nervous about the war. Is there a reason for that?”

“Oh boy,” Ranboo muttered, “is it that noticeable? Uh… well, it’s just that I don’t really think this is going to end well for anyone. I mean, war never does really. Picking sides and fighting people that should be your friends only leads to pain and loss in the end, I learned that well enough in the first war. Plus, I mean, I don’t really want to fight someone with a god on his side. I know, I know. I’m a coward.”

Techno sighed, and looked Ranboo in the eyes as best he could without standing on some kind of chair, “Ranboo, for centuries men have claimed to be gods or have power granted by them at the least. This is no different. If you fight Dream, you won’t be fighting a god, you’ll be fighting nothing more than an overconfident man. Trust me, Ranboo, his arrogance will be his downfall, the true gods will see to that.”

“So, you don’t think he’s really a god, then?” Ranboo asked, blinking.

“No, I do not.”

Wilbur thought it was a wonder Techno wasn’t the god of poetry when he gave speeches like that, but Techno never had an affinity for turning his words into art. He preferred to give his blunt opinion on things, it just so happened that he couldn’t help but be slightly dramatic when doing so. Wilbur supposed it must have run in the family.

“Techno’s right,” Tommy said with a grin. Wilbur still couldn’t shake the feeling that Tommy knew this boy somehow, “I mean, he’s being a dramatic bitch, but he’s still right. That Dream guy isn’t a god, he’s just a pawn who’s deluded into thinking he’s a king. Sure, he’s surrounded by other pawns who he can order around, but when he falls he’ll fall hard.”

“And you called me dramatic,” Techno snorted.

“Listen here bitch, I was trying to make it easy to understand by using metaphors and shit!”

“Oh shut up,” Wilbur groaned, “you’re going to scare Ranboo.”

Ranboo did, in fact, look absolutely terrified. His gloved hand had migrated to the desk, protecting the book he had left there. Wilbur noticed the words hastily scrawled on the cover, ‘Do Not Read.’

“What’s that?” Tommy asked, noticing where Wilbur’s gaze had drifted.

“Oh, this?” Ranboo asked, clutching the book towards his chest, “that’s just my memory book. Nothing important, you know? Just where I write the things that happen to me so that I remember them.”

“Oh, is that what Karl was on about then?”

“Karl told you?” Ranboo asked, looking hurt.

“No,” Wilbur said quickly, “just that if you write something down while talking to us, it wasn’t a bad thing.”

Ranboo relaxed, looking around for Karl, before apparently realizing the man had left. He must have been out looking for Fundy.

“That’s good, that’s good,” Ranboo sighed, “I guess I should explain why I need it, huh?”

“I just kinda assumed it was a diary or some shit,” Tommy shrugged, promptly getting elbowed by both Techno and Wilbur, a message to shut up.

“Not quite. I have… I guess you would call it short term memory loss. I write this book so I don’t forget the important things… L’manberg, Tubbo, the things that happen to me. I’ve already lost anything I knew about my family, I can’t lose any more.”

Wilbur felt a pang of sympathy, and then a horrible thought occurred to him. Was this something he had caused by accident? A disease of the mind that was causing Ranboo to lose everything? That was definitely Wilbur’s domain. He hoped this wasn’t his doing, but there was no way of knowing otherwise.

“Well,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face, “that makes a lot of sense. Thank you for trusting us with that information, Ranboo. For the record, I think that makes you the best kind of brave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, pog! Wanted to pump this one out so I could work on a oneshot idea I had.
> 
> Also, if you wanna see more about who I am outside of the writer of this fic, you can follow my account @alliumoakley on twitter.


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